


dark as corpses but cluttered with gold

by humanveil



Category: Z Nation (TV)
Genre: First Time, Frottage, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e08 The Collector, Season/Series 02, Semi-Public Sex, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 02:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16254968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: 10K has nightmares at first, dreams where he’s something less than human. But the nightmares quickly morph into this: images of bodies and fantasies of flesh moving against flesh. Things he can’t seem to get out of his head, even when awake.





	dark as corpses but cluttered with gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [murdergatsby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdergatsby/gifts), [cutepoison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutepoison/gifts).



> i started writing this right after i saw that shot of murphy in the little rv bed but lost inspo. decided to try and finish it for kinktober, and here we are. i haven't written m/m smut in _ages_ , so i'm a little rusty, but hopefully it's okay! 
> 
> **tag explanation:** the sexual content occurs while in the van, though everyone but doc is asleep and remains so. doc is driving and can hear what happens (and talks to them, before it happens) but it’s not like… a thing. if that makes sense.

_ Heat, pressure, adrenaline. The weight of a body on his body, of hands on his body, of lips, dry and cracked and gentle. _

_ He’s in a room covered in red, his back to the floor. He can’t get up—doesn’t want to, not this time. There is no Collector this time, no terror, no panic. There is only Murphy. Murphy, who is a solid weight on top of him, whose hands are on his chest, under his shirt, whose mouth is against his neck, whose breath is warm, intimate where it ghosts across his skin. Who looks as if he wants to devour 10K in the best possible way, whose touch is leaving pleasure in its wake instead of pain. _

_ 10K can feel it, the pleasure, the pressure. The way it builds in the pit of his stomach. Slow at first, subtle until it grows to something bigger, something all consuming. Something that has him leaning into it, wanting more. That has him clinging, clutching to Murphy, the other man’s name falling from his mouth like a mantra until— _

“10K!”

10K wakes with a start, eyes snapping open. Gaze unfocused as he blinks, breathes, gets air into his lungs. His body is hot, bothered. His skin sweaty. Bones aching from how he’s sat all night, propped against the side of the RV, chin to chest.

It’s still dark outside, only a sliver of light visible across the horizon. The gentle glow filters in through the windshield, casts the back of the van in enough light that 10K can only just make out the others scattered around, sleeping. Addy near the back, Warren on Vasquez’s shoulder, Doc awake in the driver’s seat. He blinks, turns toward the sound that had woken him.

“Huh?”

Murphy’s sigh is loud, irritated. He’s turned on his side, staring down at 10K from the RV’s little bed, one arm hanging over the edge of the bunk. “You were saying my name,” he snaps. “What do you want?”

“Uh...” 10K blinks, swallows. Doesn’t meet Murphy’s eye. His face is flushed, his mind still muddled by images of his dream. Clouded by embarrassment: because he’d had  _ that _  dream, because it’d been about Murphy, because Murphy is staring at him now, realisation slowly spreading across his face. A slow grin pulls at his mouth until he’s staring at 10K in a way no one else ever has.

Murphy sits up, swings his legs over the edge, so they’re dangling down in front of him. His hands are planted on the mattress, fingers curled in the cushion. His entire demeanour has changed: irritation replaced with curiosity, annoyance gone in favour of something playful, something 10K can’t place.

“Whatcha dreaming ‘bout, kid?”

It’s almost mocking—said in a way that makes it clear Murphy already knows. That he’s already made up his mind and now just wants to hear 10K say it. It sends a burst of annoyance through him, makes him hate Murphy even more.

“Nothing,” he says, and wishes it were true.

The dreams are frequent things, now. He’d had nightmares at first; dreams where he was less than human. Where he was whatever Cassandra had been. Murphy always bit him in those dreams, sunk his teeth into his skin and tore the flesh apart, left him there bleeding and broken, watched him turn. 10K always snaps awake when it happens, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, his heart rate high, his adrenaline pumping. But nightmares had quickly morphed into this—into images of bodies and fantasies of flesh moving against flesh. Things he can’t seem to get out of his head, even when awake.

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Murphy says. His voice is low, deep with sleep, and it crawls its way under 10K’s skin, keeps the fire burning in his stomach. He watches Murphy tilt his head, can only just make out the smirk his mouth morphs into. Murphy catches his eye, opens his mouth, lets out an over-exaggerated impersonation of a moan, the noise the sound of his own name, and 10K swallows, sits up straight.

“Stop it,” he tries, but it’s a weak attempt and they both know it. Can hear it in his voice.

“What were we doing?” Murphy asks instead, continuing on as if 10K hadn’t spoken at all. “Kissing? Touching? Bet it doesn’t take much to rile you up, huh, kid?”

“Murphy—”

“I’m not opposed to it.”

It’s a low mumble, enough to make the words die on 10K’s tongue. Murphy looks serious, sounds it, too, and it makes his mind run a mile a minute. Has scenarios and buried desires and days’ worth of dreams rising to the forefront, sending that rush of want right through him. He swallows, hates that the sound is audible.

“Come here,” Murphy says. Rolls his eyes when all 10K does is stare. “ _ Come here, _ ” he says again, beckoning. He pats his thigh gently, runs his palm over the fabric of his pants. 10K still only stares, contemplative.

Images of his dreams play in his mind, each of them taunting. Tantalising. 10K considers it—considers moving, considers joining Murphy on the little bunk, considers what that would  _ mean _ .

It’s far more appealing than it has any right to be.

When he does finally decide to move, Murphy smiles that shit eating grin of his. Eyes alight, sparkling. He helps 10K up, manoeuvres them so he’s on his back with 10K on top of him, his hands running up along 10K’s thighs, to where his trousers are tented, his arousal more than evident.

He leans up, hovers his mouth near 10K’s and drags his palm along the line of his cock, the touch light, the pressure nowhere near enough. 10K’s breath hitches, eyes widening, mouth falling open. He aches to press back against Murphy’s touch, to do anything that’ll get him  _ more _ .

“Good,” Murphy says, leans closer so his lips brush over 10K’s jaw. “Stay quiet. Don’t wanna wake anyone.”

There’s a creak from the driver’s seat, Doc’s head peeking around to look at them. “What if we’re already awake?” he says, and it’s casual. Coloured with amusement. Like he thinks it’s funny, like he’s been waiting for this.

10K stills, embarrassment flooding his features, like he’s only just realised they’re not the only ones in the van. That Doc’s been awake the whole time. He makes to back away, but Murphy’s grip keeps him in place. Helps him settle down.

“Eyes on the road, old man,” Murphy calls back, and there’s no embarrassment on his part. Nothing close to it. “We all know you’ve heard worse.”

There’s a quiet, airy huff in response, Doc’s lips quirked when he flicks his gaze to 10K. “You sure you wanna go there?” he says. “I don’t think there’s any coming back.”

It’s light-hearted, mostly. Murphy throws the closest thing he can reach at Doc’s head before 10K can respond, the little, flat pillow missing Doc entirely.

“You wish you could get this,” Murphy says, and 10K’s mouth twitches despite himself.

Doc shakes his head but turns back to the road. 10K never does answer him, but he does think of a response. Is almost surprised at the sureness with which his mind supplies:  _ yes _ .

He’d never thought he and Murphy would get here. He’d never imagined that he’d  _ want  _ it.

“C’mon,” Murphy murmurs, turning back to him; lips returning to 10K’s jaw. He leaves small, little kisses. Waits for 10K to relax again before claiming his mouth.

The kiss is hesitant, 10K’s hand curling in Murphy’s shirt as Murphy coaxes his mouth open: the sensation nothing like anything he’d ever dreamed off. He kisses back, lets his eyes shut as Murphy slips a hand beneath the hem of his shirt, as his palm drags up over the warm flesh, along the toned lines of 10K’s torso. A thumb brushes over 10K’s nipple, Murphy smirking against 10K’s mouth as he feels 10K jolt at the feel, his hips pressing down against Murphy’s.

“Poor thing,” Murphy coos softly, “all worked up.”

It would be sweet, if not for the sarcasm, and 10K sighs, thinks he might just kill him.

“Don’t talk,” he says, and it’s not quite the deadpan he’d like it to be. Is a little too breathy, too desperate. “You’ll ruin it.”

The look Murphy gives him in response could  _ almost  _ be considered a pout. 10K considers it a win.

They’re both hard, now. The heat of arousal radiant even through layers of clothing. 10K presses his hips down experimentally, bites back the noise that itches at his throat when Murphy’s cock drags against his own.

“Rock,” Murphy instructs, and 10K does. Experiments with a rhythm until they’re moving at a steady pace; Murphy’s hands planted on his hips and guiding him. Helping him get the hang of it.

It’s rushed and more than a little messy, their clothes pushed up and shoved away without care. 10K curls his hands around Murphy’s shoulders, uses the grip as leverage as he drags his hips down, grinds his cock against Murphy’s, eyes closing and thighs shaking as pleasure wracks his body.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Murphy whispers into his ear after some time, his voice ragged and breath hot, like just the thought turns him on, and 10K hesitates before he nods. Doesn’t open his eyes to see Murphy’s reaction but hears the quiet groan. Feels the way Murphy doubles his efforts: their bodies close, connected through what clothing remains.

It can’t last. They both know that, both act with that in mind. People will wake, soon, and neither want to be caught. Murphy urges 10K to work faster, shifts to get a better angle, and 10K does. Can feel the pressure building, can feel it coil down in the depths of his stomach at the added pleasure.

Murphy pulls him down by the hips, grinds up against him harsher than before, and 10K groans, stills. Feels himself reach the edge and topple over it, a moan pressing at the back of his teeth as he comes; Murphy following only a moment later with a quiet string of obscenities.

10K breathes heavily, afterwards. Stays where he is and looks down at Murphy, fights the awkwardness that wants to overcome him, the feeling of  _ what now _ . Murphy shifts, nudges 10K to get him to ease off. Settle on the end of the bunk.

He sits up, eyes 10K with a little smirk. “Not bad, kid,” he mumbles. Leans forward to press one last, chaste kiss to 10K’s mouth. “We’ll work on it.”

It sounds like a promise, and as he watches Murphy hop off the bunk to find something to clean up with, 10K is almost surprised to discover just how much he’s looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> comments & kudos = ♡♡♡
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/irnstrk) / [tumblr](http://humanveil.tumblr.com/)


End file.
